The Devil's Revival
by LauraMaeH94
Summary: "Pain. It is at a molecular level. It is all consuming. And fear. Pain, and fear." When someone attacks Jane, with a promise to return, how will she cope? And what happens when her worst nightmares turn into reality? Dark story. TRIGGER WARNING: Rape, sexual assault and possibly self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is going to be a dark story. It contains mentions of rape, and possibly self-harm, some of which may include graphic description. I will include a specific trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: NON-DESCRIPT MENTIONS OF RAPE/ASSAULT**

Pain.

It is at a molecular level.

It is all consuming.

And fear.

Pain, and fear.

Fear unlike she has felt in a long time.

It propels her.

She moves.

It is far from easy.

The world around her comes in flashes, sights and sounds crashing into her sproadically.

The moments in between are blank.

She starts in the Gardens, groggily rolling to her back, a threat still alive in her mind.

Her vision blurs as she sits.

There's a gap, then she is stumbling forward, instinct driving her movements.

The pain is worse now, and she can barely see through the white spots clouding her vision.

But she must keep moving.

She doesn't know why, just knows that she must.

She comes to a road, and tries to cross.

The step is larger than she though, and she stumbles, jarring her tortured frame, setting in motion a downward trajectory.

Another moment passes, and she is crawling, reaching desperately for the pavement.

Somehow, she rights herself.

And then she hears them; footsteps.

And she remembers; she remembers that harsh voice, those malicious words: "I'll be back."

Panic floods her veins; tears stream down her face.

She starts to run, although to any third party it is more of a lurching motion than anything else.

Her body is doubled over in pain, air leaving her body faster than she can draw it in.

Momentum drives her, her battered legs barely able to hold her weight, let alone keep up with her staggering motions.

She coughs, wheezing and spluttering as she sinks to her knees, arms curled tightly around her torso.

A final moment moves by, longer than its predecessors.

And before she is even somewhat aware of what she is doing, her closed fist is coming down deserately on a familiar door.

And as time passes, and the pain begins to overwhelm her, her hand opens, exhaustedly rapping on the wooden barrier.

"Please," she begs silently.

And then, there is light, brighter than she has ever seen before.

The door is flung open, and her body, which had been restinng heavily against the sturdy frame, falls forward, knees buckling.

Strong hands are upon her, guiding her gently to the floor beneath her feet.

She hears her name, gasped out in terror.

It sounds distant, though.

A million miles away.

It is the last thing she hears before the darkness takes hold.

Her name.

"Jane."

**A/N: Please R&amp;R.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thankyou to everyone who read the first chapter. I am a live-in nanny to four kids under five, so updates will take a while. But they will happen.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: NIGHTMARES AND NON-DESCRIPT MENTIONS OF ASSAULT**

The edges of my vision are clouded, as if inside my head a thick fog has just rolled in. the room is dark, this much I can tell.

Dark and dank.

Water drips from rotting pipes as stale air ghosts over my face.

And that is when I feel it; feel him.

His body is flush against mine, his face mere inches from my own.

I can feel him, but not see him.

My eyes will not open.

There is movement on top of me.

He is closer now, his hot breath right next to my ear.

And then a voice, one that instantly sends a chill down my spine.

"Jane," the man breathes.

I am paralysed, fear rocking me to the core.

"I know you're awake. I can smell it."

I wait for him to say it, to confirm what I already know.

"Lavender and fear."

Hoyt.

"Open your eyes, Janie," he coos. "I wouldn't want you to miss the show."

Against my better judgement my eyelids slowly crack apart, allowing the dullest of lights to filter in through the darkness.

And then I see him, looming over me.

The Surgeon.

My very own Grim Reaper.

And before I can stop it, a whimper escapes my lips.

"Oh Janie," he sighs. "I missed you."

Bile rises in my throat as he reaches behind him. If I had my wits about me I would have thought to move, but as it stands, I am not syre I could have.

My limbs feel trapped. A quick inspection reveals no tape; no bindings.

'Move, Jane,' I tell myself. 'Move.'

When Hoyt turns back my blood runs cold.

Scalpel.

That's all I can see.

His scalpel and that demonic smile.

"Take a deep breath now, Janie," he sneers, raising the weapon.

Panic burns white hot in my veins.

'Move!' my mind screams. 'God-dammit! MOVE!'

It's no use.

Hoyt draws in a slow, deliberate breath, eyes closed, scalpel raised just above his head.

"Move," I hear myself beg.

And then it plummets, piercing my left palm just as suddenly as my scream pierces the air.

…

What starts as muffled moans and slight twitching soon becomes whimpered pleas and spasmodic movements as the full weight of the nightmare bears down on the detective.

Awaking with a start, there is a moment of complete stillness before Jane propels herself forward. In the same motion she frantically scoots backward until her back is flush against the headboard.

Her eyes move rapidly, desperately searching for ghosts of the past, while her left hand seeks the light switch.

Seconds bleed into minutes as the shaken woman curls in on herself, still sweating profusely.

Nimble fingers worry over raised scars, soothing away the cramps that always follow sleep.

As always, her hands hurt.

It is 3:02am and her hands hurt.

It is 3:06 am and she has stopped sweating.

It is 3:08a, and she has started shivering.

It is 3:11am and she has decided to go for a run.

...

Seven miles later and Jane could finally feel the anxiety seeping from her pores and dripping from her body, in much the same fashion as the sweat pouring from her furrowed brow.

Her late-night pilgrimage had taken her from Revere, through Charlestown and finally to the Boston Garden in the North End. From here, she could see the edges of Beacon Hill, and the start of the Boston Common, her destination tonight.

She had made good time, her legs using pent up emotion as fuel. A little over an hour had past since her sudden awakening and she felt almost as good as new.

Stopping by the Make Way for Ducklings statue to stretch, Jane was reminded why this was one of the favourite places on Earth.

During the day, when tourists lines these paths, joining queues for swan boat rides while children chased squirrels and locals walked their dogs, these gardens came alive.

And at night, when most of the city was sleeping, the Gardens were at peace.

Jane was at peace.

Taking in a deep breath of the crisp Bostonian air, the detective started to walk toward the Common.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, she barely noticed the man who followed her over the crosswalk, nor did she take note of his gradual movement to close the space between them.

And when she did, well, by then it was far too late.

**A/N: Just a short fill-in chapter. Hope it was enjoyable.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Second chapter in a day – rainy days are apparently good for productivity!**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 16****th**** September, 2014, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND ILLUSIONS TO RAPE**

When a taser gun is fired, two probes shoot out and attach to the subject before delivering an electric shock to the victim, incapacitating them. The shock caused by the voltage can cause muscle contracture and significant pain, causing a complete loss of balance in most cases. However, the problem does not lie in the loss of balance or the fall, but in the individual's inability to regain balance or break their fall.

And this is exactly where Jane Rizzoli's problems start. Those two probes rendering her completely incapable of stopping her rapid descent. Her body hits the pavement hard, her nose smacking into the asphalt, pain immediately sprouting behind her eyes, causing tears to spill down her face.

It only lasts a few seconds before she passes out, but it is enough to last a lifetime.

The man who caused this damage moves quickly, pulling her off the path and through a clump of bushes to an alcove where their presence will be sheltered from any other early risers. He removes the probes, and secures a zip tie around the detective's wrists, before attaching another one to the base of one of the shrubs, ensuring that she will not be able to escape until he was ready for her to.

And then, he waits.

It is not long before she begins to stir, eyes opening lazily before once again falling closed.

This dance lasts a few minutes before her eyes stay open, seemingly searching for something to ground her. Eventually, they fall on his face, and he finally sees some inkling of panic behind those hooded lids.

And that is when she attempts to move.

Painful as it proves to be, Jane's ministrations only intensify when she realises that she is bound, however in her current physical state, any movements that she does make are lethargic at best.

Lethargic and futile.

And then, almost as if a switch has been flipped, the tugs to her bindings and the twisting of her body become more forceful; more violent; more desperate.

This is when the man smiles.

His prey is ready.

But so is he.

Moving quickly he straddles the lithe body of the detective, pinning her hips to the ground. He pulls a knife from his belt, holding it to her throat.

Her movements cease almost as quickly as they started, her body shrinking away from him and into the damp ground below.

He leans in close, putrid breath washing over her face.

"Make a sound and I'll slit your throat," he sneers.

And for once in her life, she listens.

He doesn't give her a second more to think over this threat before fastening a piece of duct tape over her mouth, pulling it from a canvas backpack he had tossed to one side.

Jane wondered for a moment if she was simply a victim of opportunity, or a specific target, however movement atop of her drew her from her thoughts.

Using the knife in his hand, the man scratched a trail from the nape of the detective's neck, across the curve of her breasts and down to her stomach. The blade left a thin trail of blood on the exposed skin it had touched, but failed to cut through the old t-shirt she was wearing.

"Okay," he smirks. "Let's have some fun."

**A/N: Another filler chapter for you. The next chapter will be the hardest for me to write, so bear with me. Hope you enjoyed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I cannot believe over a year has passed since I updated this fic! My sincerest apologises. Life. Anyway, here's to more regular updates!**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 22****nd**** September, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT**

Within mere seconds, the thin material of Jane's favourite t-shirt had been ripped off her body, exposing her torso to the crisp wind whipping through Boston. Goosebumps rose quickly on her skin, multiplying when the cool blade of the knife began to lazily trail across her flesh once again.

With a manic smile on his face, the pressure applied to the blade by the man grew stronger, until skin was being sliced and a steady stream of blood trickled from Jane's chest and stomach. Jane bit her lip at this, trying but mostly failing to contain the slight whimpers that she was making. The cuts stung, but it was not the worst pain she had ever felt, and she tried to keep that in mind as the man shimmied down her body to sit below her knees, pinning her ankles to the ground.

As his hands found their way to the hem of her leggings, Jane could feel the panic rising in her chest. Desperate to escape the man's probing fingers she began to struggle to the best of her ability, surprised but relieved when the shrub she was attached to began to move in its place. Muted screams and the sound off her struggling were all that could be heard.

The man atop of her, frustrated by his thrashing victim, began an assault on her body, landing blows to her ribs and head. Darkness began clouding Jane's vision once again. With one final tug the shrub came free, allowing Jane to propel herself forward, bringing her arms down as she sat up, the shrub coming in contact with the man's head. Caught off guard he fell backwards, off her legs. The next few things happened in a matter of seconds. With as much brute force as she could muster, Jane bought her arms down by her sides, elbows on either side of her hips, snapping the zip ties connected to her wrists. Stumbling slightly, she managed to stand and fumble for her pants. She made it two steps before she was brought down, a crushing weight tackling her to the ground, strong, meaty fists pummelling their way into her sides, her back and her head.

Dizzy from yet another blow to her already concussed head, Jane was this time unable to fight back as the man wrenched down her pants and forced his way into her. She was lying prostrate, sticks scratching her exposed belly, dirt rubbing into stinging wounds.

And in that moment Jane was sure that this would be her demise. This is how it was going to end for her. Not in a hail of gunfire with her partners by her side, but alone, in the park, killed by an adversary she did not know, and wished she never had the chance to meet.

…

Shuffling down her hallway, flipping on light switches as she goes, Dr Maura Isles is unimpressed by whoever is banging her door down at this time of the morning. She had checked her phone – no missed calls, which meant that there was no dead body for her to examine, and therefore, nowhere for her to be other than tucked into bed sleeping.

She almost growls as the banging continues, but stops herself. Turning on the porch light she sees a slumped shadow illuminated through the window panes. It is hard to make out but by the hair alone she realises who it is, and is immediately sorry for her earlier thoughts.

Opening the door swiftly, unaware that the person on the other side is resting their full weight against it, she nearly doesn't catch her friend before she hits the ground. A shocked gasp rattles out of her chest, and she manages to choke out a name before the eyelids in front of her flutter closed.

"Jane."

**A/N: Please R&amp;R.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I have a few days off and am hoping to get this story all finished and posted. Strap yourselves in ladies and gents, we're in for a bumpy ride.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 22****nd**** September, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT**

Maura doesn't know how long it takes the ambulance to arrive, but she is sure it is longer than the dispatcher said. In the meantime, Maura tries to stabilise her friend, running inside to grab towels, clothes and other pieces of fabric, anything she could use to stem the bleeding. Somehow, against all reason, she manages to remain clinical. At least until the paramedics arrive.

Once Jane is scooped up off her doorstep, and they are both in the back of the ambulance, there is nothing that can stop the tears from falling. She sits up by Jane's head, cradling it in her blood-stained hands, tears dropping into her lap as she sobs.

Jane's face is covered in sweat, dirt and blood. What is left of her clothing has been cut away, exposing her body to the cool air inside the ambulance. In the harsh lighting of the rig Maura can see just how badly her friend is injured. Cuts and scrapes mar her flesh, some deliberately put there by something sharp, others the result of her struggling. Blood covers her torso, some of it dried, other parts drying. For now, the bleeding has seemed to stop. Jane's breathing is shallow; rasping. The final injury, the one Maura is avoiding looking at, is on her thighs. Bruises that look conspicuously like hand prints, don her olive skin.

It is the monitors that alert Maura to Jane's distress. So busy cataloguing her friends many lumps and bumps, she does not notice when Jane's eyes begin to flutter open; does not notice her dilated pupils or her reaction to the male paramedic next to her. It is only when the monitors begin beeping furiously, and Jane begins to struggle, that Maura realises that she is awake.

…

White noise. That's all she can hear. White noise and darkness. And pain. Visceral, throbbing pain. It won't go away. She tries, and fails, to move. Even just an inch. A finger perhaps. But nothing gives way.

Eventually she manages to pry open an eyelid, then another, but both are covered by a haze; a thin film that distorts her vision and lets in too much light.

She clamps her eyes shut again.

The next time she opens them, she manages to get them wider, and this time the haze has lessoned. She can make out shapes; one shape to be specific. The shape of a man. Of the man. The man that caused this pain.

Panic bubbles in her chest, and she realises that she needs to get away. She needs to sit up. She needs to run.

Her first movement is slow, almost languid. The next displays much more force, jolting the body next to her.

A voice coos her name. It makes her stomach turn.

A hand reaches for her shoulder; startles her. She tries to move; tries to jump to her feet, but something is trapping her, holding her down.

And that's when she realises – she is strapped down.

The realisation strikes fear into her very core, and she can feel her heart rate pick up dramatically. She begins trashing, or what might have been intended as trashing but ends up being just jerky movements, her injured body too weak to put up too much of a fight.

There are voices surrounding her, hands touching her, and she doesn't know which way is up.

All she knows is that suddenly a burning liquid is filling her veins, and the haze returns with a vengeance.

As the paramedic injected the last of the sedative into Jane's IV, the darkness pulled her under.

…

It is the most agonising minute of her life, as she sees Jane panic and struggle against the straps securing her safely to the gurney. She sees the absolute terror in her eyes as she rips her eyes from the male paramedic. And she sees the fight leave Jane as the sedative kicks in.

By the time the doctors at the hospital force her into the waiting room, she is a sobbing, uncontrollable mess. It takes everything she has to remain upright in her seat, with every fibre of her being wanting to curl up on themselves and combust.

And eventually, she does just that. When Angela and Frankie arrive, she allows herself to let go, the agonising terror ripping her to pieces.

…

An incessant, far-away beeping is the first thing that registers in her groggy mind. It won't let up; won't give her pounding head just a moment of peace.

The next thing that registers is a weight on her right arm, holding her down. For a moment she wonders if she is once again pinned down, but a quick peak from under her heavy lids reveals a mess of blonde waves, hair she immediately recognises as Maura's. She moves her left arm, intent on touching those soft curls, to reassure herself that Maura was really there, only to recoil with a sharp intake of breath.

'Son of a bitch," she hisses, pain pulling at her senses.

The head on her arm raises, just an inch, and turns to check its surroundings, then tilts to look at her face.

Surprise and relief wash over those tired features, and Jane notices for the first time that Maura is wearing hospital scrubs.

"Jane," Maura breathes, and tears threaten to spill from her eyes. "You're awake."

**A/N: That's it for now – stay tuned for another chapter. Please R&amp;R.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: As promised, the next chapter.**

**[Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I offiliated with the **_**Rizzoli and Isles**_** franchise. Any characters and/or ideas associated with the show as of 22****nd**** September, 2015, are not mine. Anything else is mine.]**

**TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, MENTIONS OF CHOKING**

'Maura,' Jane rumbled, her normally gravelly voice even rougher.

Tears sprung to Maura's eyes, relief washing over her body. 'Thank God,' she murmured.

'I thought,' Jane began, speaking in gasps. 'That you…didn't believe…in God,' she finally got out.

Maura chuckled at this, not missing how much effort it was taking Jane to talk, but relieved that her sense of humour seemed to be intact.

'I don't, but that didn't stop me praying,' Maura answered honestly, and slightly embarrassed. Eager to change the topic of conversation, the blonde asked 'do you want some water?'

Jane's response was a nod, and she gingerly pushed herself up off the pillows at her back to receive the straw Maura was holding. It took a lot more effort than she thought it would, and she couldn't help but to slump back against the bed once she'd had a few gulps of water.

'Are you okay,' Maura asked, knowing the answer but still feeling compelled to ask the question.

'I'm fine,' Jane mumbled, eyelids slipping closed.

Maura took up her position next to the bed again, taking Jane's hand into her own.

They did this dance a number of times before became able to stay awake for longer.

And when she was awake, she found herself telling Maura about what had happened.

'He surprised me, Maur,' she began, quite out of the blue.

Maura almost asked who she was talking about before remembering the reason that they were in the hospital.

'I think he tased me.'

'The doctors found burns on your back consistent with a taser gun,' Maura interjected, not really knowing what else to say but wanting to validate her friend.

'It hurt. Like I never really thought about it, but it hurt a lot. I hit the deck, hard. I guess I blacked out 'cause next thing I knew I was restrained and he was on top of me.'

Maura bowed her head at this, knowing what was coming next, but still wanting to deny it had ever happened.

Seeing Maura's reaction, shame bubbled in Jane's chest. 'I fought, Maura,' she promised. 'I really did try.'

At this, Maura's head snapped up to meet Jane's gaze, and she realised that her friend was apologising to her.

'Jane,' Maura said, voice strong and sure. 'This, this was not your fault.'

'No, but,' Jane started, but was cut off by an emphatic Maura.

'No, Jane, no. This was NOT your fault. Not even a little bit.'

'Okay,' Jane conceded, looking sullenly at her hands in her lap.

Maura moved to take one between her own hands.

'I got away, though. I thought I had won,' Jane said quietly. 'But then I couldn't breathe and he was on top of me again, this time hitting me, and I couldn't see anything, I could just feel him, pressing against me. And then…then he…he,' Jane stumbled, tears beginning to cascade down her cheeks.

'It's okay, Jane,' Maura said. 'It's okay. It's over.'

'No, but that's the thing,' Jane jumped in suddenly, remembering the sneering threat. 'He said he would be back; said he would come back to get me.'

'Oh, Jane,' Maura sighed, looking into her friend's wild, frantic eyes. 'We'll keep you safe.'

…

After a few hours of this dance, Jane finally fell back into a deep sleep. Maura took the chance to step outside and stretch her legs, intent on delivering a message to Jane's family – go home. Jane didn't want them to see her like this.

Both Maura and Jane knew that her family would go nowhere without seeing her, but that they would respect her request for now.

It was the smell that first alerted Jane to his presence – a musky odour that took her straight back to her attack.

Her weary eyes shot open, noting the cop standing by the door, watching as he flipped the lock on the door and glared in her general direction.

Shit.

'I told you I'd be back,' he leered, sending panic shooting through Jane's body.

It happened in an instant. One second he was there, standing by the door, and the next he was looming over her, pinning her arms to her sides. He climbed on top of her, straddling her bruised form.

His large, calloused hands found their way around Jane's throat and, without warning, began to squeeze.

It was the worst pain Jane had ever felt in her life, the inability to draw in oxygen only intensifying her panic. Her stitches pulled, and ribs protested, but she would be damned if she wasn't going to fight.

She scratched, and clawed, and gouged, and hit, but nothing would move the great weight from atop of her. Flailing about, Jane could see her vision begin to cloud over, could feel her body starting to give up the fight.

Jane could feel it – the life, slowly leeching from her body.

And then, as if a light had been switched on, oxygen filled her lungs, and she found herself on the floor, cowering under the hospital bed, gasping for air.

…

Maura was sure she had not closed Jane's door on the way out of her room, and no sooner had she remembered this did she hear the shattering of glass from inside the room.

Running the rest of the way down the hallway, Maura was terrified to find the door locked from the inside, the sounds of a struggle evident through the thin wood.

'Help!' Maura screamed, frantically looking for anyone with a set of keys. 'Help me!'

It took all but ten seconds for a nurse to round the corner, and only another few moments for Maura to get her to open the door.

And when she did, the sight before them made Maura's blood run cold.

Atop a struggling, wide-eyed Jane was a burly man, his huge hands wrapped tightly around her friend's throat. The scream that was ripped from her lungs was animalistic, and she found herself running toward the pair, using all her might to push the man off balance, watching as he and Jane fell off the bed. The man jumped to his feet, quickly retreating from the room, but Maura could care less about him.

Scrambling over the bed and onto the floor on the other side, Maura was met by a pale-faced Jane, holding her bruised throat in her hands, panic flooding her features.

She reached out to touch her, but Jane saw nothing, blindly fighting off her hand, a rasping whimper coming from her throat.

'Jane,' Maura began, speaking in what she hoped was a soothing tone. 'It's just me. It's Maura. I'm just going to sit here, okay? I'm not going to touch you. I'm just going to sit here until you're ready.'

And sit she did.

While security came and went, pursuing the attacked, while nurses came and stayed, waiting to get close to Jane, and while onlookers wandered by, Maura just sat there, gently talking to Jane, until finally, she came back to herself, calm enough to focus on the voice talking to her.

'Jane?' Maura asked gently.

Jane just nodded in response, throat too sore to try to speak.

'We need to get you to the Emergency Room. You've pulled some stitches,' Maura said, gesturing to the specks of blood on Jane's hospital gown, 'and we need to get your neck check out,' she finished.

Jane nodded once again, trying not to recoil too much as Maura reached out to her, leaning heavily on her arms as Maura basically lifted her out from under the hospital bed and into the wheelchair.

'It's okay, Jane,' Maura kept saying. 'You're okay.'

**A/N: A longer chapter for all of you lovely readers. Hope you enjoyed it. Only one more to go before this story is finished! Please R&amp;R.**


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